The Lost Sister by Kathleen McGurl (i can read book club .TXT) 📕

off they were – they were still standing off a couple of hundred yards from where the Britannic had sunk. But now the ship was gone, they might row closer in to look for survivors. Meanwhile Emma could kick and pull and somehow get Lily towards the lifeboats, towards safety.

Her world shrank, until it was just them and the water around them and she’d been doing this, kick and pull, kick and pull, for ever. She remembered her mother’s face, as she lay dying and pleading with Emma to keep Lily safe, to look after her. ‘Take care of her,’ Ma had gasped, summoning all her strength to make sure Emma would promise to protect her little sister. The frantic, fruitless search for Ruby on the Titanic. Lily was thankfully still in her arms, her grip on Emma’s arm still strong as she lay in the water, her back against Emma’s hip, pushing her down so that every now and again the water closed over Emma’s face and she had to kick harder to surface again, gasping for breath. Her legs were aching now, her arms tired, every muscle was calling to her to stop – just stop, let go, drift down to sleep in the dark water – but no! She had to save Lily. Lily was all that mattered.

‘Here, love. Grab a hold of this.’ A stick, something, an oar, perhaps, was thrust towards her, hitting the side of her face. A new pain in her cheek temporarily blotted out all the other pains and made her feel dizzy, the sea spinning around her, waves washing over her.

‘Grab it, love.’ A gruff male voice – who was it? Sounded like Martin but he was dead, he’d gone down with the Titanic, hadn’t he? She’d been to his mother’s house and talked about him.

‘Hold tight, I’ll pull you in.’ Lily had let go of her arm, and something was tugging her away from Emma, and Emma was screaming, grasping, trying to find her sister again but she couldn’t focus and her head kept going under, and her mouth had filled with water. Her legs were as lead, she could kick no more, and Lily was gone from her reach.

Someone was screaming, calling her name. The wooden thing, the oar, hit her once more on the head. She grabbed for it but it was just floating in the water and drifted away from her. Someone swore and all Emma could think was that there was no call for such language and where was Lily? She’d promised to keep Lily safe, she’d promised Ma. She’d failed with Ruby, she had to save Lily, and now she’d let go of her, and where was she? Lily must have sunk, she must be down there in the depths somewhere. She tried to reach down for Lily but she was so tired. There was no strength left in her arms or legs, and her head was pounding. Her movements made her flip over, onto her front, and now her face was in the water. She forced her eyes open to look for Lily in the dark depths but there was nothing there. She tried to lift her head but a wave sent a gush of water into her mouth, down her throat, and she was choking, coughing, and there was no strength to cough, no strength to breathe, and it was all just simpler to stop altogether, but wh-where was Lily … Lily …

Lily

‘Here, love. Grab a hold of this.’

Lily felt the oar across her body, and let go of Emma’s arm to take hold of it. Emma would be able to swim better without having to hold her up too.

‘Hold tight, I’ll pull you in.’ She didn’t recognise the voice and with her wet hair plastered across her face she could not turn to look. But she held tight as instructed, and felt herself pulled swiftly through the water until her head bumped into something and she realised she was beside a lifeboat. Then strong arms reached down and hauled her on board where she collapsed in the bottom of the boat, gasping for breath.

‘Emma! My sister, you need to get her too!’

‘Shit, she’s knocked the oar out of my hand,’ a voice said. ‘She’s drifting – we need to get over to her.’

‘With one oar?’ another man said. ‘It’ll be difficult. Oh Christ. She’s flipped over.’

Lily pulled herself upright, pushed her hair back from her face and scanned the sea for Emma. She was about thirty feet away, the lost oar floating near her, and as the man had said, she was face down in the water. ‘Why is she face down? Why doesn’t she lift her head?’ No one answered her – the men in the lifeboat were organising themselves to paddle the boat with their hands and the single remaining oar, towards the drifting body of Emma. Lily watched, terrified, willing her sister to raise her head and take a breath. At one point it looked like she was trying to, but her head only lifted a little way and not far enough for her to breathe, before she flopped back into the water. It was clear she was exhausted.

At last – it felt like hours but couldn’t have been more than a couple of minutes – the lifeboat was in reach of both Emma and the dropped oar. Men were reaching into the water and grabbing hold of Emma’s clothing, life jacket, hair – whatever they could reach. They turned her over and Lily gasped – Emma’s face was blue, her eyes open and staring, her lips swollen.

‘Pull her in. There’s still a chance …’ someone said, and Lily thought, a chance? Only a chance? ‘Get that oar too.’

A moment later Emma was lying in the bottom of the boat, and a man – one of the doctors who’d been on board – was kneeling beside her, pressing on her stomach, rolling her onto her side to let